


A Glove Fry

by Anonymous



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), National Treasure (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Crack Treated Seriously, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M, National Treasure au, Newt Scamander is a Dork, Original Percival Graves is Bad at Feelings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Seraphina Picquery is tired of everyones bullshit, decent dirty talk, everyone is shocked, it's lazy and dumb i know thank you, some mild kidnapping, worshipful sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-12 11:45:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18445895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Percival Graves has to steal the Declaration of Independence, while avoiding the watchful eye of Credence Barebone, the expert from the National Archives who he tried to warn about his nemesis Grindelwald attempting to steal it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> you been knew the plot, i just made it GAYYYY 
> 
> like i rewatched the movie and got this image of cre in a black smokey eye and a suit wandering around the fancy party looking sad and lonely and HAD to Do It To Em
> 
> live your life and be blessed if you wanna rip this fic to shreds whatever do it!  
> attack me personally and know i'll be seeing you in hell too, so square up, fuckers.

Percy walks in to the party and instantly tenses, as if he’s made a mistake. 

He looks the part alright, in a fine pressed suit, his beard shaven, hair slicked back, yet he still feels out of place. 

He also spots Credence rather quickly, across the room, floating through the sea of people like a piece of driftwood. Staying on the edge, carefully avoiding meeting any one person’s gaze. 

Percy inhales sharply, and snags two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. 

Credence is wearing an expensive looking navy suit, most likely bought and tailored to perfection, unlike Percy’s fairly cheap rental tux. His long hair is swept back in a ponytail tied with a black silk ribbon. 

Well, it looks like silk from where Percy stands, frozen. He makes eye contact, and thankfully, Credence doesn’t look away. He almost looks a touch more relaxed. Percy isn’t sure how to interpret that bit of body language.

His hands are rapidly warming the glasses, and he clears his throat, striding forward and ignoring Newt’s panicky tones in his ear. “Mister Barebone, how nice to see you.” His voice wavers only slightly. Newt tells him this is a mistake. Credence’s bored or tired expression melts away entirely, forming into an indulgent smile. 

“Mister Brown. This is unexpected. I had no idea I'd be seeing _ you _ here tonight.” He almost sounds... pleased?

Percy smiles tightly back, extending his hand, offering Credence one of the glasses. 

He accepts, nodding his head. “Thank you. What shall we drink to?” 

Percy takes a breath, suddenly aware of a shorter figure approaching them rapidly. 

“Oh, hello Abernathy. Nate, this is my friend, Mister Brown.” 

Percy spins a proper tale of a last minute donation to explain his presence, all the while mulling over how he feels about Credence referring to their relationship as ‘friendly.’ 

Considering the strange circumstances under which they had met, it's rather kind of him.

“A toast then, to the men who risked everything to get us where we are today. They did what they knew was right, even though others thought them wrong. What they knew was right...” Percy finds himself rambling on for a long moment, then trailing off, politely snagging the glass half empty Credence had been holding between his forefinger and thumb. 

Abernathy then gives Credence a second, more properly chilled glass, and Percy takes the opportunity to down his own. “Good evening gentlemen.” He gives a parting glance to Credence, ignoring the other man entirely, hoping to portray his desperate sorrow at what he must do, but he doubts it comes across. 

Now he's in a race against the clock, and Newt’s less than gentle reminder isn't helpful. 

“Let's just hope this works.” He mutters to himself, exiting the party as gracefully and speedily as decorum allows him to.

* * *

 

The alarm is starting to blare from the National Archives building, directly behind Credence as he chases Mister Brown, the handsome and mysterious man who appears to be a pathological liar, out into the streets.

They are still damp from the earlier rain shower that drove the party indoors ahead of schedule, and Credence hears the click of his shoes along with the other mans,’ slightly muffled by the pavement. 

“Mister Barebone, I beg you to turn back. Return to the party and pretend you never saw me.”

Credence eyes the narrow tube in the man’s grasp. Slightly yellowed paper beneath protective plastic.

His heart rises to his throat, and the thundering beat roars in his ears. 

“Don’t be ridiculous Mister Brown. I can’t just... you did not...tell me you  _ didn’t…”  _ Credence lunges for him, and the man doesn’t even fight back, he lets the tube be plucked from his hand. 

Credence can scarcely believe it, how easy to stop a thief.  He stumbles backwards, slipping a little on the wet road. “Security! Help, someone please! I’ve got it! I saved it!”

The double doors to the Archives are in sight, but just then, someone appears out of the darkness, stepping into the Credence’s path, out from behind a silver and white van, marked catering on the side. “Gotcha.”

Credence opens his mouth to shout for help again, but his tie is yanked up and stuffed into his mouth, stifling the noise as he’s manhandled into the back of the van, whose engine starts up with a groaning rumble, then the floor lurches under his already weak knees.

“Now what have we here?” A silver haired man with a slight sneer eyes him up, like he’s a piece of meat, then looks to the tube which he’s clutching tightly to his chest. “Now, darling, why don’t you give us that, then you can be on your way.”

Credence shakes his head, and a stray lock of hair escapes his ponytail from the commotion, falling into his face, obscuring his line of view. 

They're moving at a rapid clip now, driving with no care for laws of speed and maneuvering traffic. 

Credence’s throat closes up in fear. What has he wandered into? 

This Mister Brown has some very dangerous friends. 

Or are they enemies?

“Shit! There’s someone following us, Gel. I can’t shake ‘em.”

Credence yanks himself free at the distraction, and runs to grab the door, having one hand on the Declaration and the other fumbling at the lock. 

It's probably dumb but he’d rather throw himself into oncoming traffic than let these criminals steal it again, from him.


	2. Chapter 2

Percy’s probably never done anything stupider in his entire life than hang out of a moving car to catch another man jumping at him from an equally fast moving car. But they did it, and no one died. Somehow.  

Credence falls into his arms as the sliding door shuts, and Newt floors it in the opposite direction of Grindelwald’s van. “Are you okay?” Percy asks the younger man softly, the moment they've slowed down, turning onto a side road, heading for someplace quiet to regroup. “No! No dammit I'm not okay! Those men, they have the Declaration!”

Percy sighs, and shakes his head. “They don’t. What they got is a souvenir. See?”

He pulls out the red leather satchel, pops the top, slides out the white case, unscrews the lid, showing Credence the true plastic wrapped scroll of yellowed and browned paper. His dark eyes widen. “Hey—gimme that!”

“Ah-ah-ah, you have to behave now. We saved your life. Are you sure you aren’t hurt?” Percy tries again, and Credence just makes another grab for the satchel. 

“Stop it... it's safest with us. By the time Gellert figures out his is a fake, we’ll be far away from here.” 

Credence looks thunderous. Cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling, it’s incredibly alluring and Percy wants to slap himself for thinking it. The smudged black eyeliner and pink of Credence's lips doesn’t help much either.

“So… those men… who are they? From the way they were shooting at you I'm guessing they aren’t friends. But yet you know the leaders’ name?”

“Those men are the ones we warned you guys about last week but you just laughed at us.” Newt cuts in before Percy can so much as open his mouth. 

Credence’s eyebrow quirks. “Excuse me?” 

Percy sighs. “Well, you did say no one could possibly steal it, and yet, here we are.”

 

He doesn't  _ mean _ for it to turn into an argument but it does and Percy can almost  _ feel _ Newt laughing at him. Judging him. They're going to need to go see Seraphina, because of his credit card use for the backup declaration he cannot lead them back to his brownstone.  _ “Why _ do you need the letters?” Credence asks, and Percy almost smiles.

“I love that you're curious, but I'm trying to think and I need some quiet, please, shut up.”

Credence speaks again and Percy shushes him, a little more sharply, before then sweetening his tone, offering over the Declaration for him to hold, which turns out to be a bad idea. 

He attempts to run and then Percy has to tackle Credence onto the sprinkler damp grass.

Percy pins the younger, slender man under his body and just shakes his head. 

He can feel Credence bucking up against him, and it’s  _ more _ than a little distracting. 

“Why must you make this so difficult?” Percy huffs, right before Credence slaps him across the face.

Percy promptly shuffles back off of him, declaration in hand, apology on his tongue. He clutches his cheek, hot from the pain of the slap, and shakes his head, before dropping that hand, waving it in the air. “Go on, off you go. Shoo.” 

Credence scrambles to his feet and reaches out, snagging the leather strap, bringing their faces very close together again. Percy’s eyes almost cross from his focus on the lovely face, just a scant few inches higher than his own. 

“I'm not letting that out of my sight again, so I'm going with you.”

Percy blinks, “Uh, no, you're not.” 

“If you didn’t want me with you, you shouldn’t have said  _ where _ you were going. I could just go to a payphone, and fill in the FBI.” Credence actually smirks at Percy, and he feels all the blood drain from his face. 

 

“God damn it.”

 

Seraphina’s understated Boston home is dark when they arrive. which makes sense, having grown up as a military brat, she's used to keeping set hours. Up by six in the morning, in bed no later than ten at night. 

Percy has always admired her for it, but tonight he’s just gonna have to owe her a case of Jack.

Newt rings the doorbell and shrinks back behind Percy, leaving him with the burden of greeting. 

Sera answers the door within a few minutes, looking flawless as ever, blond hair tucked up into a sapphire turban, a matching dress robe, and her dark eyes narrowing with suspicion. “This had better be good, Val.”

Percy winces at her tone. “I promise you Sera, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.” She looks over to Credence, and then back to him, smirking. “You brought your usual harem with you, I see. Well, come on in, I’m already up now.”

Percy swallows, “For the record, this is my employee and… friend.” He then beckons Newt forward. 

The redhead goes, leaving Credence behind to glare at Percy.

“‘ _ Your harem?’ _ Just what kind of bullshit do you get into usually, Percival Graves?” Credence sounds horrified, but his eyes shine at Percy like they haven’t all night, not since the gala. 

He pushes past Percy with a stiff shoulder, so he doesn’t count himself forgiven  _ quite _ yet.


	3. Chapter 3

Credence reaches out, lightening fast, halting the downward motion of Percy’s arm, lemon wedge between his fingers.

“If anyone’s going to run tests on this document, don’t you think it should be someone who is qualified?” 

He gives the man a look, and promptly feels the way his body relaxes. “You’re right. Of course.” 

Percy nods to Credence, and then backs away, giving him full control of how to proceed.

Credence swallows thickly, and picks up a q-tip, swabbing the lemon thoroughly until the cotton is soaked with juice. 

“If there  _ is _ an inscription of any kind, it should be in the upper left hand corner. God, I am  _ so _ getting fired for this.”

He lowers his hand slowly, inch by inch, his breathing slows, until he’s holding it, right before the cotton tip touches the paper. Credence swipes it back and forth a few times, until the entire corner is wet, shiny in the fluorescent kitchen lighting. There’s no sign of any discoloration besides the change in tone of the paper from being dampened by juice. 

Credence can almost feel the excitement draining out of Percy’s body, right beside him. 

Seraphina, the elegant woman who’s home they’ve virtually, no, literally invaded, pipes up suddenly. 

“I told you, you need heat.” 

Credence looks to Percy, and together, they lean down, until their lips are inches apart, and above from the paper. 

They exhale at the same time, desperately, and darkness appears out of the corner of Credence’s eye. 

There’s definitely a symbol inked there, on the back of the Declaration, and Percy lets out a strangled cry. 

“It’s the sign of the freemasons.” He fairly gasps out, and Credence straightens up, pulling back, realizing how close they just were. If not for the excuse of the paper beneath them, he’d have thought Percy had been on the verge of kissing him.

 

“I can’t believe it, all this time, it was here on the back, and no one knew.” Credence says a few hours later, once they’ve drenched the paper, copied down all of the Ottendorf cypher, and used the hair dryer to carefully ensure the Declaration is no longer damp with lemon juice. “On the back of what?” Seraphina glides by the kitchen table, and reaches idly down to flip up the front of the Declaration. She screeches, and it sets Credence’s teeth on end. 

“Holy fucking hell, Val, what have you  _ done _ ? You stole the Declaration of Independence?” 

Credence grimaces, and carefully plucks it out of her fingers, ignoring her distressed face, 

“Yes, and it’s very  _ old _ , and very delicate.” 

Percy appears out of thin air it seems, rolling it up and putting it back inside the plastic, then the tube, and finally tucking it safely into the red leather satchel. “I fought beside you in the army and  _ this _ is how you repay me?” 

Seraphina fairly spits at him, and Credence winces on Percy’s behalf. 

They have to tie her up to prevent her following them, according to a very apologetic Percy, and Credence wants no part of it. He merely follows Newt out into the garage, where Percy snags the keys to a navy cadillac trimmed with gold. 

“A present from her last ex-husband. Sera goes through them like tissues. You might say she’s a maneater.” 

He laughs a little to himself, but Credence is just in awe, mingling with a little disgust and curiosity, suspecting there’s a whole hell of a lot more history between them than even this crazy night has shown him. 

Percy drives with smooth expertise, getting them back onto the highway with no mishaps, and they’re well on the way to philadelphia before the sun has even begun to turn the sky a soft lilac. 

“I’m hungry, when are we gonna be there? I’m tired too.” 

Newt is mumbling, not really to himself, though his complaints are echoed only by Credence’s stomach, in agreement. 

“I promise we’ll get you some food, but first we need to change out of these clothes. We look a little… conspicuous.” Percy answers, throwing a glance back to Credence in particular, who’s the most like a kidnap victim in this case. 

“Yeah. But how, we have no money.” Newt counters immediately, voice grouchy. 

Percy tosses a small bound book in the general direction of the backseat, which then lands perfectly in Credence’s lap, and he blinks. “Look in there. Sera usually keeps a few hundred dollars tucked away, cash for emergencies.” 

The title of the book is in silver worn letters, reading simply,  _ ‘Common Sense.’  _

“How apt,” Credence snarks in reply, and he catches what looks like a smile from Percy in the rearview mirror.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Percy tosses a sweater, shirt, and pair of pants over the divider between the changing rooms. 

He focuses on changing out of his own rented suit, and makes a mental note to apologize and pay for it as soon as he’s able. Then, like the pervert Sera thinks he is, he listens to the sound of Credence slipping off his tuxedo, and changing into his own casual attire. Percy draws in a shaky breath, and tries to ignore the thudding of his heartbeat. 

“So, care to enlighten me about the harem nonsense? Or shall I draw my own conclusions?” Credence’s voice floats over or under the wall, and Percy blushes hotly, recalling Sera’s judgemental tone. 

“Well, it comes from a place of caution. You see, over the years she’s known me, I’ve been a little too cavalier in my love life.” Credence snorts. “And what exactly does that mean? Taking on more sugar babies than you could afford?” 

Percy winces. “Not exactly. You see, well, have you told someone, not a family member, that you loved them?”

Credence hums to himself, and then steps out from inside the stall, opening his door to tap into Percy’s, as he does the same a few moments later.

His gaze finds Percy’s, the younger man’s eyes cleaned of the dark defining makeup, but still stunning. “Yes.”   
Percy swallows thickly. “More than one someone?” Credence blinks, and then nods. “Sure, yeah.” 

“Well then. Sera would call that a little too cavalier as well. Reckless with your own, and someone else’s feelings.”

Credence licks his lips, and his eyes dart down to Percy’s own mouth. 

His hands grip the door with white knuckles, and he’s grateful to have it to keep from falling over. 

Credence is  _ so _ close now that Percy can count every freckle on his nose, across his cheeks, and the way his bottom lip quivers before he speaks is endearingly sweet. “Sera’s a little hard on you, a bit overprotective, I’d guess, for a dear friend. It makes sense, and must be nice having someone to look out for you. I wish I’d had that growing up.” 

Percy leans in closer, and Credence’s eyes sink further shut, lashes almost kissing the tops of his cheeks. 

“Well, I think you turned out alright, if you ask me.”

“Guys, the first tour starts in a half hour. We better move.” Newt interrupts without a trace of regret, and Percy wants to ring his ginger neck. He’s obtained the decoded phrase from the Silence Dogood letters, and they now have to head across town to visit the former housing place of the Liberty Bell. 

 

They figure out the when and where, and score the old timey specs, which reveal further messages on the back of the Declaration, but things get more complicated when Gellert’s men are spotted walking around the outside of the building.

“There’s no way we can avoid being see, but if we split up, we’ll have a better chance of escape.” 

Percy hands over the Declaration to Newt and Credence, much as it pains him to leave it, and Credence, if he’s honest, and he warns Newt to protect them. 

“I will.” They speak together, and Percy grimaces, before taking off to go out the tourist exit. 

He’s on the run within seconds, his feet pounding the pavement, and his heartbeat thundering in his ears. 

This is not how he imagined or wanted this day to go. 

 

It all goes to shit very quickly. 

He avoids Gellert, but falls into the FBI’s clutches. 

Another day is wasted, but eventually, Percy meets up with Gellert, with Newt and Credence not far behind. 

The unfortunate casualty to all this is Sera, dragged into the arrangement by the mere association of her name with Percy’s past. “Why couldn’t they have tried to hunt down Theseus? He’d have sniped them all from his apartment in Brooklyn.” Sera hisses at him, the second she’s close enough, and Percy can only look at her with sorrow. 

“He’s retired off the grid, S. Plus, he despises me.” She sneers at him, “Lucky guy.” 

 

The anger rapidly dissipates with the rate at which they solve puzzles, outwitting Gellert and his men. 

Sera tricks them into leaving the group to return to the surface of the old church, seemingly abandoning them inside the hidden passageways. “There’s another way out, through the treasure room itself.” Percy says, a touch of excitement returning to his voice, overwhelming the despair he’d just displayed, half an act on Gellert’s behalf, half sincere disappointment. 

Everyone follows him as he leads the way, using the Meerschaum pipe as the key to open a hidden door. 

“‘The secret lies with Charlotte.’ It really  _ was _ that simple.” Percy murmurs to himself, as they file in, and then continue walking. Newt’s the one to dip his torch into what he proclaims as a basin of oil, and suddenly, the room fills with light.

He doesn’t realize there are hot tears crawling down his face until he feels a hand slipping through his own, and he turns to find Credence at his side, with Sera not too far behind. 

“You were right, all this time. Your family, the legend, the myths, are all true.”


	5. Chapter 5

Credence cannot help himself, at the sight of such a brave, handsome man reduced to tears from his accidental victory, he leans down, just close enough to brush his lips against Percy’s. 

He fears rejection, because after all, they were at odds merely two days ago. 

Now, however, they are bonded through trauma, and adventures Credence never so much as imagined he might experience. Percy reacts not with anger, but merely surprise. 

He startles, and Credence knows he has not misread the looks and signs that the man has been sending him. 

The conversation at the clothing store, the almost kiss there, for that is what it was, and now, he feels one of Percy’s hands coming around, rising to cradle the side of his jaw, a thumb stroking gently over his skin.

The kiss deepens, and Credence’s eyes flutter closed, the mountains of gold and silver around them, forgotten, if at least for the moment. 

 

While Sera works her magic with the feds, Percy finds Credence, huddled in a shock blanket outside of the church, perched on the back of an ambulance. No one is really hurt beyond Newt’s graze and maybe a splinter from Gellert shoving him onto one of the wooden elevators, but the EMT’s were summoned regardless, just in case. 

“Gellert’s going to be arrested before he can probably attempt breaking into the historical landmark, but god, if they  _ could _ catch him in the act, it’d be that much worse for him, better for us.” 

Credence manages a smile, “I think they’ve got him on plenty of charges already, assault, battery, attempted kidnapping, and trespassing in a secret Freemason stronghold.”

Percy grins over at him, and then his expression softens, to the way it was before, down in the chamber. 

Credence feels a shiver wrack through him, and it has nothing to do with the crisp fall air in Philadelphia. 

The man’s eyes linger on his mouth, before lifting back to meet his gaze. “I wanted to talk to you about the kiss.” Credence swallows. “Yeah? Was it that bad? I am a little out of practice. Been single six months.”

Percy doesn’t ask, but Credence just keeps rambling. 

“Nate, Abernathy, you met him at the party. He’s my ex. Never date coworkers. It always ends badly.” 

Percy looks as if he’s trying very hard not to laugh. 

“Credence, it’s not that at all. I just wondered if, I might be able to buy you dinner, sometime. After this all blows over.”

“If Seraphina is half as good as you say she is, it shouldn’t take long. As far as I know, I’m free tonight.” Credence says.

His boldness surprises him, and Percy, it seems. The man looks taken aback, yet not displeased. 

“Great. So am I, as long as they don’t go back on their word and decide to arrest me too.”

 

They don’t.

 

Percy is free to go home, though Credence invites him to come stay at his place after they ride the train back to DC, on the Feds dime, kindly enough, since the FBI did sort of leave a mess in their whirlwind trip through the Graves brownstone. 

 

Two weeks later, the FBI sends Percy a nice fruit basket and a polite card, along with the information about just how much money he’s going to be getting in his account. 

Newt is granted a decent chunk too, to help with his dream of finishing veterinary school, and starting his own practice. Credence finds himself promoted, rather than fired, becoming head of his department, and getting an office on a higher floor, facing the center of the Mall. 

Percy applies for a teaching position at a small college, landing the title of History professor, with a hobby on the side of debunking myths, which he expands on during free periods every Thursday, in the college library. 

The sessions are usually swarming with fans and curious others. 

It’s during one of these occasions that Credence comes to visit, planning to steal Percy away the second his extracurricular class has ended. Percy spots him, even from the place he’s chosen in the back of the room to remain out of the way, less distracting. Nevertheless, Credence’s boyfriend stumbles over his words, and turns an adorable shade of pink in the face once he notices him. 

As the students file out, Credence makes his way over to Percy’s makeshift desk, and steps around it for a proper greeting.

He’s promptly swept into the man’s arms, dipped backwards gently, and then kissed with a fierceness to rival the way Credence pursues a grant request. He can taste Percy’s smile against his lips, and he blinks his eyes back open lazily, finding Percy’s glittering with fondness. 

“Hello, you. I’m so glad you aren’t one of my students. Although, you would show them all up with your dedication to finding the truth.” Percy says quietly, and Credence grins back at him. 

“Oh I don’t know, don’t knock it till you’ve asked me to try it, Professor Graves.”

He sees Percy’s eyes widening, and smirks. 

“Shall we shelve dinner plans and just go home for dessert?” Credence asks, halfway breathless already, grateful that their shared brownstone is less than a five minute drive away. “Hell yes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the SMUUUT


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they bangin'

Once home, Percy’s less concerned about the wrinkles surely settling into his tweed jacket, and more engrossed with the task of undressing Credence, on the way to the bedroom, they trip over each others shed shoes, and Percy laughs aloud when he sees what underwear Credence threw on. Just to tease him, really. “You stole my teal boxers? Why on earth…”

Credence tugs Percy backwards, so that he falls right over him, pinning him to the soft blankets. 

“Maybe because I wanted that exact adorable reaction.” 

Hands rough with callouses slide down his hips, framing his waist, before dipping under the elastic band, caressing naked skin that’s been aching for a touch since this morning, when Credence had to wake alone. 

Percy keeps early hours on Thursdays, out the door before five thirty in the morning. 

It makes Credence’s head hurt to imagine getting up at that time, it’s still dark out for gods sake. 

By the time Credence feels Percy tugging the boxers down his thighs, he lifts his hips to help, and their heated kiss must break, only so that the man can trail his lips down the side of his neck, to Credence’s collarbone, and lower. 

Percy’s mouth is hot and wet over Credence’s rapidly peaking nipples, and he barely holds back a gasp from the first contact of the man’s hand over his cock, thumbing wickedly at the slippery head, then stroking fully over the length of him. “You’re going to kill me, you teasing old man.” Credence whispers, fondness leaking into his words, as surely as Percy’s own soft chuckle bleeds into his skin. 

His lips find their way to Credence’s sternum, and he licks and nips biting kisses towards Credence’s navel, pausing right above where his hand slowly tugs on his cock to look up, and force him to meet his dark gaze. 

“I’m going to make you come before I fuck you, because I’ve missed the taste of you so badly.” 

Percy usually sucks at this whole… dirty talk thing, but tonight, somehow Credence is thirsty enough to get off to that. 

His cock jumps into the man’s hand, and blurts out another dribble of precum. “Okay.” 

Percy licks up the mess that’s making his hand skip and slide over Credence’s cock, before properly enveloping the head of it into his mouth, suckling firmly, while reaching down, cleverly massaging the hot skin just behind his balls. 

Credence’s head falls back onto the bed, and his back arches, body unconsciously chasing the pleasure that zips through him, darting over the surface of his skin like a live wire, from every single point of contact Percy makes with him. 

From his hands firmly grasping on Credence’s thighs, guiding them open wider, and then up to drape over his shoulders, to the way his throat moves, swallowing around his cock before backing off, and nosing lower. 

He is overwhelmed with bliss, surrounded by sensation with no hope of escape. 

Credence stifles a cry before he can help it, and then full on groans as Percy’s lips make contact with his taint, with a warm swipe of his tongue next brushing over his hole. His entire body shivers, and he thrusts himself closer, feeling how his cock strains against his belly, dripping onto his skin. 

“Percy,  _ please _ , god, I can’t…” Credence’s voice breaks, as Percy’s chuckle vibrates through him, and there’s a hand on his cock now, the heel of the man’s palm grinding over the length of him, while a tongue thrusts into him, just barely slipping past the outer ring of muscle. 

He’s dying, breaking apart into a million little flecks of stardust, when the next thing he knows, Percy is easing a fingertip inside his ass, pushing wetly further than any human’s tongue can, to rub over that perfect spot. The memory Percy has on him, to precisely find Credence’s prostate within seconds, should be weaponized, or made illegal. He loves it.

Credence comes with the taste of blood in his mouth from biting back his screams of delight. 

He thrashes on the bed as Percy’s arm braces on his hips, keeping him mostly still, his cock jolting and spurting over his stomach, up to paint his ribs with white streaks. 

Once Credence has orgasmed like that, Percy can leave him boneless and shaky, retrieving the lube to work him open on two whole fingers, then a third, just in case, so he won’t have any pain when he sits in the office the next day. 

Following that, Credence shivers from over-stimulation when Percy kisses his way back up from his groin to lick up the mess of semen cooling on his abdomen. He thrusts his hands into the man’s hair, and tries to whine at him to leave it, and just use a rag, but Percy nips a kiss beneath his left nipple, and shakes his head. “I said I wanted a taste, and I meant it.” 

After he’s devoured Credence to his satisfaction, he pulls away, removing his fingers, still slick with lube, to apply them to himself, having already torn open a condom and slid it onto his own cock. 

Percy then leans down over Credence to kiss his temple, damp with sweat, his hair surely a rats nest under him, on the pillow. He graciously avoids Credence’s mouth, his tongue surely bitter with the taste of his come, but he doesn’t care, and he says as much. Percy shudders over him. 

“Ready for me to fuck you, gorgeous?” He asks, his voice rough with arousal, and trembling with nerves. 

Every time they’ve had sex,  _ every time _ , for three weeks, Percy has sounded this way. Credence adores it. 

The caution.

The electric awareness. 

He hopes that it lasts forever. “Yes, fuck me Professor.”

  
  


Percy swallows, the slimy salt of Credence’s come evident in his throat as he pushes in, his cock vanishing into the hot clench of muscle, sliding home with very little effort, as his arms almost give out from exertion. 

He’s getting old, he thinks dimly. Maybe never too old for this, though, because the way Credence  _ feels _ around him, under him, against his lips, his legs clinging to the sides of Percy’s waist, it’s pure ecstasy. 

He never wants it to end, even as he chases after his climax with abandon, feeling Credence’s arms winding about his neck, bringing him down unforgivingly for a kiss that probably tastes horrific. 

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” Credence repeats in a breathless mantra, and Percy does. 

He fucks Credence so hard and so fast that he can only hear the slap of skin on skin, above his own thudding heartbeat, deep and quick that when Percy feels close, he has to still, stop moving to bury himself all the way, feeling Credence’s pink hole fluttering around him, hungrily keeping him close. 

Fingers scrape over the back of his neck, digging into his shoulders, and Percy feels a bite on his neck. 

He’s going to need to wear a scarf, or maybe just a turtleneck tomorrow. 

His vision goes pure white, and his head falls down, face pressing against Credence’s shoulder, breathing hard and heavy like he’s run a marathon. He knows he needs to move. To pull out. Percy can already feel the sweat cooling on his back. 

Credence doesn’t say anything, but he hums, almost purring like a contented cat. 

“Perce, that was  _ so _ hot. You were like, fierce. Possessive. I may not be able to sit after all.” 

Percy can't help wincing in sympathy, and then he retreats, carefully easing back, slipping off the condom and tying it up neatly, then throwing it towards the special trash can right by the bed. 

They’ve learned a routine of sorts, in two weeks, since moving in together. Percy swallows, and then looks down to Credence’s cleft, catching a gleaming shine of lube, lingering between his legs. “God, you’re so pretty.” He says.

He means it too. Percy can’t, for the life of him, understand why, of all people, Credence stuck around this long. 

They’re both rich in their own right now, so it’s not for the money, much as Sera may joke with him about it. Percy knows.

She approves. It’s in between the lines with her, but it’s there. Credence blinks up at him, and turns bright pink. 

As if he wasn’t already flushing from the sex. Now he glows. He’s ethereal. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”

Percy ducks his head, and snags a couple baby wipes to clean up Credence properly, before tugging a fresh one over his spent dick, relishing the cooling aloe residue left behind. “You’re just being nice.” 

Percy’s quickly proven wrong, yanked down into the bed, wrapped up in all of Credence’s limbs, spooned from behind. He gets another bite to match the first, on the opposite side of his neck. So definitely a turtleneck then. 

“Don’t talk like that, Perce. It’s too soon to say it, really. But you  _ know _ , don’t you?” Percy’s heart skips a beat.

“Do I know?” Credence’s lips are gentle, ghosting across his shoulder, before he bites down there too. Another mark.

“You  _ must.” _ Percy hears, and their legs tangle together, as one of Credence’s hands finds his own, their fingers link.

 

They sleep a little, before waking to make what Percy calls a hangover meal, eggs, bacon and toast, which Credence classifies as breakfast for dinner. He looks across the kitchen island at the younger man and thinks, desperately, with a dash of hope, that yes, he could love him. 

 

Maybe... he already does.


End file.
